Nightmares
by ennisjackgal
Summary: Set after the reunion. John is having nightmares and Sherlock comforts him, which leads to something neither of them expected.


**Nightmares**

Sherlock paused in his violin composing just in time to hear a groaning coming from the upstairs bedroom, and he sighed. John hadn't slept well ever since Sherlock came back from the dead and he often had nightmares. Sherlock wasn't sure what to do for his friend but he knew that this couldn't go on.

He put the violin down and headed up to John's room, hoping that this would soon be over. He'd never liked seeing John in any kind of pain and wanted it to stop; his friend didn't deserve this.

"John?" he asked cautiously outside the door, wondering if John was awake. But he heard another moan and slowly opened the door.

The covers were halfway down and John's shirt was sticking to him as he was covered in sweat, clearly agitated. Sherlock paused, wondering what to do; he still wasn't very good at showing compassion but he wanted to try.

He slowly walked around the bed and shook John's shoulder gently. "John?" he murmured, hoping not to scare him. He managed to wake him up and saw John's brown eyes blinking at him.

"Sherlock?" he asked groggily, looking knackered. "What are you doing in here?"

"You were having a nightmare again; I could hear you downstairs." Sherlock bit his lip. "Are you alright?"

"Not really," John admitted, rubbing his forehead. "Keep remembering that day at Barts when you jumped...seeing you on the pavement..." His voice cracked, leaving Sherlock feeling guilty.

"John, I...I'm so sorry that I had to put you through that." Sherlock was only now realising what his faked death had done to John; he felt terrible for it. "I never..."

"I know," John sighed, stretching out. "Anyway...I'll be okay. Had nightmares before, remember?"

"Yes, but...even I can tell that they're worse this time," Sherlock pointed out, folding his arms. John looked at him.

"You're right. Look, I..." He sighed. "Would you mind...staying with me for a bit?" he asked, cheeks going a little red. "Just in case?" John didn't normally actively seek out any kind of physical intimacy between them, often being wary of people getting the wrong idea. But it was just the two of them here and nobody would ever know. "Please?"

"Um..." Sherlock looked around; the bed was certainly big enough to accommodate both of them, but would John want such closeness? "Are you sure?"

"Yeah...I don't really want to be alone right now. If it's okay with you," he added, lifting up the quilt nervously. Sherlock stared for a moment and then decided that if John was sure then he would certainly do as asked.

He got into the bed next to his friend and his cheeks flushed when John moved closer to him. "Thanks," he said softly, and Sherlock had to smile.

"No problem," he replied, and they looked at each other in the darkness. Neither of them could deny that there was more than mere friendship between them; they were so much closer than that but hadn't spoken of it.

But in this close proximity, Sherlock had to wonder if these feelings he had for John might be reciprocated after all. "Sherlock, I..." John murmured, looking into his eyes. "I wanted to tell you..."

"What?"

John didn't say anything else, but he leaned in close. His heart was hammering in his chest as he looked into those seascape eyes. "Sometimes...when I close my eyes I see you on that pavement again. I've dreaded going to sleep ever since and...for so long you weren't there..."

Sherlock awkwardly put his arm around John, pulling him closer. He didn't know what else to do. "John, I...I wish I could tell you how sorry I am for that. I've never...wanted to hurt you."

"I know. I missed you so much and...sometimes I..." He bit his lip, as if fighting to say what was on his mind.

"You can tell me," Sherlock said to him, comfort coming easier to him now that he was relaxed. This wasn't so bad after all. "John?"

"One time, I went up to the roof of Barts. Stood on the edge like you did. I thought about..." He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to continue. "Mycroft called me...I guess he was watching on CCTV or something...and he told me that it wouldn't ease my pain. I stepped away and went back down. But I honestly thought about doing it, Sherlock..."

For once, the detective didn't know what to say. He was so glad that John had had friends around him to keep him sane, even Mycroft. "Shh..." he whispered, holding John close to him. "It's alright..."

Their noses were centimetres apart now as they looked at each other, John's eyes a little glassy. Neither of them was sure who leaned in first, or maybe they did it at the same time. Either way, their lips were soon meeting in a somewhat desperate kiss. John was seeking comfort and Sherlock was trying to give him some. John could feel his friend's warm body against his and for the first time in two years, he felt truly at home. He loved Sherlock as more than a friend and he was perfectly happy to admit that now.

When they pulled apart, Sherlock was smirking. "It was about time, John." That earned him a light punch on the chest, making him grin.

"Shut up, you idiot," John replied affectionately. He grinned and rested his head against Sherlock's chest, where he could hear a steady and soothing heartbeat. "I love you," he said softly, feeling Sherlock tense slightly; he wondered if he'd said something wrong.

But then his friend relaxed and John knew he was simply taken aback. "Well, um...the feeling is mutual, John. You ought to know that by now."

"I really do. Thanks, Sherlock," he replied, kissing his friend's cheek before settling down again. Sherlock smiled contentedly and closed his eyes; this felt good and he would like to experience more of it. He got the feeling that he wasn't the only one.


End file.
